


Reflections of a Life Not Lived

by Ordinary_Magic



Category: Jericho (US 2006)
Genre: 350 word drabble challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:17:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordinary_Magic/pseuds/Ordinary_Magic





	Reflections of a Life Not Lived

I remember the day of the bombs. The Day It All Ended. Only twenty-four hours earlier I was sipping a mocha latte and preparing the sheaf of papers that would end a man's life. And I didn't much care.

 

After signing the last of the repossession documents I carefully clipped the papers, placed them into my leather case, and shut the top with an audible click, which seemed unnaturally loud in the sparcely-populated Starbucks. The afternoon crowd was thin, consisting primarily of students working on laptops and chugging their Vendi non-fats.

 

A quick stop at the dry cleaners, a call to Mom so my light and water-starved houseplants would get some attention in my absence, and it would then be a quick trip to Butt-fuck, Kansas - or whatever the name of that hick town was. As usual the company arranged both the flight and a rental car, but they could not manage to speed up time or allow this transaction to take place over the phone. It would've been so much easier to destroy a man's life long-distance, I think. I would have a two hour drive out in the middle of corn, cows, and more corn just to go through the motions, and hand the condemnation to a man whom I did not know, nor would I ever care to know. It was enough that this was taking so much of my time, and the life I put on hold during these out-of-town forays.

 

Then, of course, fate decided to spit in my latte but good. 

 

Twenty-four hours later the rumbling echoes from what had once been Denver vibrated my glass of gin and soda off the bar in the podunk tavern in this hell-spawned version of Mayberry. Thus began **The Day** , and all days after it. The man whose farm I was ripping away from him, his life's work, his identity - everything that would have diminished a life so unremarkable before The Day - he saved me. He saved us all. I have another chance to build a real life now, but some days, I do miss the latte.


End file.
